


Dezinformatsiya

by Mostly_Angst_Whoops



Series: My tumblr stuff [9]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is an informant, Alexander is bad at insults, Angelica is evil in this, M/M, Promise, There's a torture scene, They're totally crushing on each other, Thomas is a field agent, but it ends fluffy, sorry - Freeform, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 13:28:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11829708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mostly_Angst_Whoops/pseuds/Mostly_Angst_Whoops
Summary: Thomas would totally quit his line of work for Alexander. Right after he saves the world.





	Dezinformatsiya

Jefferson rides his motorcycle up to the rendezvous, letting the engine stall for a second before parking. He has the information in his shirt pocket, a simple flash drive with the formula of a new poison gas that’s still being perfected by the Russian government. It’s supposed to kill everyone who breathes it in within a thirty second time frame. What the American government is trying to do is to create a gas that can neutralize this one, or at least make it less harmful. It’s a problem if your enemy has the ability to kill all your soldiers within thirty seconds. **  
**

It feels heavy in his pocket, and Jefferson can’t help but slide it out of his pocket and fiddle with it, snapping the little USB in and out of the plastic casing. He can feel his nerves acting up again, and he reaches into his backpack and pops a pill into his mouth, dry swallowing it. He relaxes again.

Jefferson waits until he sees a man with long brown hair strutting into the restaurant in front of him. It’s the same man every time, and Jefferson begins to wonder if the agency is running short on employees. Jefferson’s been doing field work for years, and it’s always been the same informant that he’s been reporting to. Still, it’s nice to see him again. It’s always nice to see him again. Jefferson’s been meaning to ask him out for a while. 

Relationships are extremely hard in his line of work. They’re weaknesses, potential hostages, blackmail material. They make you human, and when you’re lying and killing every day, it’s sometimes easier to leave the human part of you behind. Jefferson has gone through this line of thought every rendezvous with the man. Nobody can make him smile the same way. Nobody can make him relax and have a little faith in the world the way Hamilton does.

Hamilton.

That wasn’t how he had introduced himself the first time. It had taken Jefferson a year to get those three syllables. There was a certain danger with them. They weren’t supposed to know each other’s names.

_“Am I ever going to know anything about you? At least a name?” Jefferson had asked. He wanted to know more. He still wants to know more. There’s always this stage when you’re a kid and you get to research your crush. Jefferson has none of that. Maybe because he’s not a kid anymore. He still needs to know something about the person he spends the most time with._

_“Hamilton,” the other man had whispered. It was forbidden, and Jefferson could see the glint of mischief in his eye._

_“Jefferson,” he had responded, directly after. They had shook hands._

_“I know everything about you anyway, didn’t need to know your name,” Hamilton had replied._

_“Shut up, asshole.”_

_“Fuckface.”_

_“What?”_

That was the day he realized Hamilton couldn’t come up with good insults whatsoever.

One of the good parts of having Hamilton as his unofficial partner- well, they were practically official at this point, since Hamilton was the only part of the United States government that Jefferson reports to anymore- was that they wouldn’t have trouble coming up with small talk to mask the true nature of their conversations. One of the things that Jefferson had always had trouble with was coming up with something to talk about that wouldn’t reveal details of his personal life. Most of the people he’d previously worked with would just try to avoid conversation and plan their rendezvous in places that there’d be nobody else. It’d look really suspicious, and it would freak Jefferson the fuck out. There’s something calming about being in public when nobody notices you. Hamilton never does that- he makes sure Jefferson is comfortable with the place they’re meeting, and man, he can talk. He even makes Jefferson _talk_ , and Jefferson feels himself letting go, finally more relaxed anytime he’s with Hamilton. It’s nice. 

Jefferson’s even considering giving up the life just so he can be with Hamilton. He’ll ask about it later. For now, he has a job to do.

Jefferson tucks the bike helmet underneath his arm and begins walking to the restaurant. It’s brightly lit up on the outside, and Jefferson can feel the lights dancing across his skin.

“Gilbert!” he hears. He freezes. There’s a thick Russian accent lacing the word. He turns towards the source of the noise, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Schuyler, how are you?” he asks, keeping his voice congenial. He can see the woman walking up to him, the lights from the restaurant shining on her face as well.

“It’s Angelica,” she corrects. “I’m doing well. Just wondering what you’re doing at a restaurant in Alaska.”

“Vacation,” Jefferson responds, smoothly coming up with a cover. If Angelica figures out he’s a spy, that’s be the end of it. “I told Lewis that I was off this weekend. Did she not tell you?”

“She must’ve forgotten,” Angelica says, waving her hand to dismiss any other questions. “Thing is, our systems logged a file transfer recently. To a memory stick.”

_Shit._

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” she asks, looking at her nails.

Jefferson can see the snarl on her lips, the smile that was threatening to show itself. Angelica almost never smiles. She’s one of the top operatives in the Russian government, and if he’s being honest, she freaks him out.

“I don’t. As I said, I’m on vacation, and I’m meeting my date-”

“A date?” Angelica asks, lips curling up at the new information. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“You had no reason to know,” Jefferson says. “My private life is mine and mine alone. Good day, Miss Schuyler.”

Jefferson turns and begins to walk to the restaurant, trying to keep himself from shaking.

“Jefferson,” Angelica says, the word escaping her lips like a snake poised for the kill. Jefferson freezes this time, and he can tell that it gives it all away. Angelica had figured out that Gilbert Lafayette was actually Thomas Jefferson. He tries to continue walking like nothing happened, but a part of him knows that it’s over.

There’s a second of silence where Jefferson thought it worked, before he hears Angelica again.

“Pig,” she mutters. “Get him.”

Jefferson begins to sprint. He needs to get the USB to Hamilton or it’s over. Nobody’s going to survive the chemical attack, and with war on the horizon, it’s life-or-death. He barely makes it to the sidewalk before someone tackles him and forces a wet rag in front of his face. He smells something sharp before the darkness hits him.

* * *

When he wakes up, it’s in an unfamiliar location. He blinks a few times, trying to focus on something other than the overwhelming white he sees everywhere. Slowly, other figures come into focus. He sees Angelica standing in front of him, and he groans.

“Glad to see you’re awake, Gilbert,” Angelica says, looking up at him, examining. “I should say Thomas, shouldn’t I?”

Jefferson tries to move, struggling against the binds that hold him in place. He seems to be strapped to a table with was flipped vertically, so he’s practically standing up. Angelica’s the only one in the room, and the rest of it is lit up with bright white lights. There’s a single mirror in the room, and Jefferson can see himself reflected back.

Wait, not a mirror. A one-way window.

He wonders how many people are watching him right now. He blinks a few more times, mind still cloudy, before he looks back at Angelica.

“What?” Jefferson asks.

Angelica laughs, picking up a knife. Jefferson tracks her carefully. “Don’t play dumb. We found the USB in your pocket. You’re a spy, Thomas. Meeting up with someone, I suppose. You called them your date. How close are you two? Maybe I should bring them here and torture them in front of you.”

Jefferson tries to hide the fear, but Angelica can sense it easily. She’s terrifying, and she owns the fact.

“So, you’re going to tell me exactly what information you’ve given away,” she says, running her finger along the length of the knife. 

“Did you get my informant?” Jefferson asks. He’s worried about Hamilton, and he knows that asking about it would only confirm what Angelica thought.

There’s a flicker of something on Angelica’s face, and Jefferson relaxes a little. Hamilton’s safe, because she would’ve brought him in already if he wasn’t. She can’t use Hamilton against him. Good. “Never mind about that. Information, now, or it’s going to hurt.”

Jefferson keeps his mouth shut. The more he gives away, the more people he puts in danger. He’s been infiltrating the weapons department of the government for years, and reporting as much information as possible to Hamilton, who would help with American counterweapons. If the Russians figure out which weapons the Americans could stop, and which ones they couldn’t, it would be a disaster.

Angelica shrugs, using the knife to cut down the middle of Jefferson’s shirt. The cheap fabric rips apart easily, leaving his chest open. He squeezes his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists. 

“One last chance, Thomas,” she taunts.

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Jefferson says. He waits for the pain. It doesn’t come, and the anticipation feels like acid across his skin. He opens his eyes a crack, trying to see what’s happening, but he’s right in time to see a knife cutting across his chest. The cut is on the bottom part of the ribs, and the blood is beginning to drip down. He breaths heavily. It’s not too painful, and he can tell it’s just a warm up to show that Angelica’s not bluffing. He never doubted her in the first place. He bites his lip, hissing a little.

“So?” Angelica asks, running her finger along the cut. She presses into it and Jefferson squirms, trying to get away from the pressure. 

“Fuck off,” he hisses.

“I see.”

The pain is at his side now, and the cut is deeper this time, threatening to do more damage. He whimpers as she cuts another cut right under the one that she had just done. The blood drips down his side. He tells himself that he’s holding it together well, trying to calm the nerves that are building up. He can smell the blood and Angelica can smell the fear. He struggles in his bindings, wishing he had the L pill with him.

He’s waiting for Angelica to do something where he can just black out from the pain, but he knows she’s far to careful for that. 

The next cut makes him scream. He doesn’t realize that Angelica is gone until he opens his eyes and notices that the room is all white again, no trace of Angelica anywhere. It doesn’t make sense. She should be here longer. 

Jefferson tries to move, but he feels pain travel up his side and gives up, closing his eyes and breathing hard.

He barely notices the door open, before he hears a voice. 

“Shit.”

It's familiar, and Jefferson can hear a lot of...something going on outside the room. His brain is a little too cloudy to think right now, but the pain is number and it's a blessing. 

“Here. Have this,” the voice says, before Jefferson has something stuffed into his mouth. He swallows it, already used to dry swallowing pills. This is nothing. There’s suddenly water poured into his mouth, and he chokes on it for a second before gulping it down. 

Jefferson’s eyes close, and he’s in the dark again.

* * *

Jefferson awakes to the white of a light again, and thinks that the figure that he saw was just a dream. He groans softly, moving his hand to paw at his eyes, before realizing that his hand is no longer restrained. He moves his hand down to the cuts on his chest, and finds them covered.

“Jefferson!” someone says. It’s the same voice. Jefferson looks towards it to see Hamilton smiling at him. “You doing okay?”

“Fine,” Jefferson says, blinking a few times so that Hamilton would come into focus. Just seeing Hamilton’s face calms him down. “What’s going on?”

“You’re in a hospital, and we’re both out of a job,” Hamilton says. “Uh, welcome to the CIA’s Alaskan base. It’s pretty boring here, but it’s also close to Russia, which is kind of exciting, I guess.”

“Job?” Jefferson asks, not finding the energy to do much more.

“Orders were to leave you behind if you weren’t fit enough to get out by yourself,” Hamilton says. “I kind of ignored that so that you wouldn’t die, and might’ve endangered the rest of the mission. Whoops.”

“Thanks,” Jefferson said. “Idiot.”

“You’re my partner after all, farthead.”

Jefferson just hums, glad he’s back to Hamilton’s horrible insults.

“Well, since we don’t have our jobs anymore, it’s Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.”

“Thomas Jefferson.”

“I know.”

“Asshole.”

“Fuckface.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.


End file.
